


i feel pretty (and it's terribly wrong)

by squishychan



Series: lgbtq+ svt [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Nonbinary Character, a bunch of vague shit bc i'm that bitch, and another reason for why it's tagged m/m too, i'm rambling again lol sorry, there rly isn't any comfort here tbh, there's a reason for sol's pronouns being confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishychan/pseuds/squishychan
Summary: hansol just doesn't know how to describe anything anymore—and that's totally fine.right?





	i feel pretty (and it's terribly wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> some dick said nonbinary people were invalid and i'm ngl, i might have went off
> 
> anyways, here's some representation bc y'all deserve it ♡
> 
> and i apologize for the slight angst bc that's essentially all i write (∩︵∩)

Growing up, all Hansol really wanted was a dress. And at first, he finds absolutely no shame in that, because why would he? It's just another article of clothing upon many, the added bonus being that they came in a wider variety than the typical button up shirts and khakis his mother told him he looked oh so handsome in. With some being lacy, all delicate and flowery, the little pink rosebuds adding the perfect finishing touches. While others were more masculine, a jumper of sorts, with sewed in shorts perfect for hours spent at the playground, not having to care about flashing anyone when he would hang upside down on the monkey bars.

 

But that one wish was quickly burnt out like a cigarette on a wrist, as his dad told him that dresses were meant for girls and for girls only. And it confuses Hansol, because as far as he knew, clothes were just clothes. Not having an assigned gender or anything, because why would they?

 

He doesn't understand why boys _can't_ wear dresses, and the fact that he doesn't exactly feel like a boy only making his confusion ten times worse. A classmate teasing him about the whole ordeal, asking him if he wanted to be a girl in a taunting voice, pulling at his hair as though he had pigtails.

 

And just so you know, _no_ , Hansol does _not_ want to be a girl, but he thinks that he _doesn’t_ really want to be a boy _either._

 

```

 

Hansol started dreading each and every sixth period, which was fucking gym class, half the time just skipping it in general, not at all caring if it made his mom mad.

 

The teacher dividing the boys and girls into separate teams, which even at his young age of nine, he was already calling bullshit on. Because girls were just—if not more—as strong. 

 

Finding himself frozen in place as everyone else dispersed, scattering away like dandelion fluff on a sunny spring day. Hansol usually ending up being dragged to the boy's side, a ball shoved into his hands as they all took their places. Rowdy shouts and high pitched protests pounding in his ears, everything suddenly too much. Yet he doesn't dare cry, because his dad always said that boys don't cry. But surely there's an exception with Hansol himself, right?

 

And yes, he does understand that this way is easier for the teachers, but it really doesn't help his situation either way. The shrill screech of the whistle setting everything into motion, his discomfort only amplifying as balls whizz by his head.

 

Oh how he wishes he stayed home "sick".

 

```

 

Watching helplessly as body began to change upon entering the awful stage of life called puberty. His short structure shooting up, shoulders becoming much more defined, his voice lowering.

 

Wanting nothing more than stop this horrible progression, to halt time in its tracks. To not become  _him._

 

_It's pretty dumb, isn't it?_

 

But those nights spent holed up in the restroom—fingertips stained crimson, the material of his pants clinging wetly to his sore thighs—are ones he can never ever erase.

 

Jealous of his fellow members, jealous of how they managed so fucking well. Their only issue with the whole process being the inevitable voice cracks and shit. While he silently destroyed himself, his unhealthy coping mechanisms only coming into light when their nutritionist noticed just how underweight he was. As Hansol felt the only thing he could control was his eating. The hunger pangs distracting him from his morphing body, even if only momentarily.

 

Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Jisoo keeping a watchful eye on him after that, making sure he cleaned his plate at every meal. Which was annoying, yes, but it was the much needed slap back to reality that Hansol needed. Putting the whole thing in the past, moving on with only disgust for his previous actions. Vowing to never look back.

 

Now only if he could do the same with his fucking gender.

 

```

 

"You're so pretty Solie~" Seungkwan coos one night, the two curled up in Hansol's bed, the older's fingers gently carding through his curly locks. A citrus scented candle lit on his desk—hues of amber dancing on the walls—something Soonyoung would sure to complain of when he came back.

 

Hansol stiffening against Seungkwan's side, the word leaving a bad taste in his mouth. All coppery and metallic, like the penny he swallowed once as a stupid dare in middle school.

 

"Don't be silly Kwannie, boys can't be pretty." He finally answers after a beat or two of silence, just knowing his boyfriend was rolling his eyes behind him, hands placed firmly on his waist.

 

"Oh? Then am I not pretty?" Voice mocking, a fake hurt that everyone had heard before. Hansol pouting— _not this again._

 

"You're different, okay?"

 

Seungkwan making a noise of happiness, burying his face into Hansol's neck, his warm breath fanning out onto sensitive skin. Murmuring something Hansol can't decipher, grip tightening on the younger.

 

"Hmm?" He sleepily asks, eyes suddenly drooping with tiredness.

 

"I said that I still think you're pretty," The soft snores letting Hansol know that now it was just him alone with his thoughts.

 

_Hansol wishes those words didn't feel so right._

 

**Author's Note:**

> i learned that my gc name is panicked gay and i'm honestly blessed to have felt this betrayal  
> also i'm a trans boy so i'm sorry if i messed up this portrayal (evan if ur reading this, and it's totally wrong, feel free to fight me, k?)
> 
> tumblr: mingsolie  
> twitter: tangerinekwan


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